


Make me feel

by astroenergy



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Explicit Sexual Content, Izaomi, M/M, One Shot, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-15 01:16:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1285771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astroenergy/pseuds/astroenergy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time he shows up at Shinjuku he tells himself he’s there to kill the informant. He doesn’t know how, he doesn’t bother think about what he’ll do afterwards, he just goes all the way out there and knocks on the man’s door with murderous intentions showing clear in his eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make me feel

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Verall, who planted the seed for a IzayaxMasaomi story in my head. So, Verall, I hope you like it!
> 
> I have to say any pairing involving Izaya other than IzayaxShizuo makes little sense to me. But I like a challenge, like any unhealthy obsessive creature, so I thought I'd give it a try - hehe! 
> 
> Warning: dark Izaya, angsty Kida and dubious consent - I couldn't picture this pairing any other way.

The first time is nothing but painful. And it shouldn’t surprise him really – it doesn’t. What surprises him is the fact that he wants it and the way he practically begs for it, even without saying a word. The first time he shows up at Shinjuku he tells himself he’s there to kill the informant. He doesn’t know how, he doesn’t bother think about what he’ll do afterwards, he just goes all the way out there and knocks on the man’s door with murderous intentions showing clear in his eyes. Izaya invites him in with a crazy smile and before Kida has the chance to do anything he finds himself slammed against the closed door with a blade pressing against his neck.

 

“Did you miss me, Kida-kun?”

 

He spits in the face of the man who has forced him to see his true nature, but remains silent, seething and hating himself for his idiocy. The informant laughs, wiping his face on his sleeve, and retrieves the blade twirling it in his hand before he turns his back to walk inside his office, motioning for Kida to follow him.

 

“You’re always welcome in my humble abode”, he takes a small bow as he walks over to his desk and sits in his swivel chair. Kida follows him inside the room and stands awkwardly in the middle. He feels even weaker in the presence of this man, almost immobilized. Izaya leans back in his chair, opens his mouth and fills the space with words; about human nature, about the myth of bravery, about love and need and human weakness. And Kida listens, almost enchanted, and that’s how a pattern forms.

 

He times his visits to the informant’s office to always arrive just after the sun has set -the scrutinizing sunlight gives him the creeps and he can’t even explain why- and stays until late at night, either listening to the man’s rambling or just watching him as he goes about his work silent. So on that rainy evening he sits quietly in the couch, watching the raven haired man type away on his keyboard for hours without sparing him a single look. If he could afford being honest to himself, Kida would admit that he’s missed physical contact; the reassuring warmth of another body pressed against his. He’s never been with a man before, but it seems fitting, to surrender himself to this cold and cruel creature who shamelessly ignores him all evening. He gets up and tentatively walks to the man’s desk, his mind a blinding blank. When he touches the wooden surface of the furniture, red irises look up to greet him, as if they’d been expecting this move for days now. There’s a faint smirk on the pale face that is illuminated by the blue light of the computer screen, but Kida chooses not to read much into it. He holds that gaze for as long as possible, hoping that he will not be forced to say the words he’d never forgive himself for. But that red is uncompromising. If he wants something he’ll have to ask for it. Or maybe just take it. He circles the desk and hears his breath catch in his throat as those blood dripping irises follow him closely, inquisitive and amused, yet not revealing any of the man’s thoughts. As he reaches the back side of the desk and approaches the swivel chair, the black clad man turns to face him, running a long slender finger over the computer’s sleep button. Kida doesn’t really know where to go from there and he foolishly hopes for Izaya to just take the next move upon him. But instead, the informant watches him quietly for a few moments, eventually smirking and purring “ _Well, Kida-kun, is there anything I can do for you?_ ” He feels the air suck out of his lungs and he has to remind himself to breathe, because, really, this is just too much. He doesn’t know whether he’s looking for comfort or just plain punishment, but whatever it is he’s not prepared to spell it out to the man. He brings his hand up, just a small, uncertain gesture –it feels so heavy, like he can actually feel Earth’s pull on it– and cautiously runs his fingers through the raven hair. They feel like silk – just as he expected. He’s overcome by the desire to yank them hard and grips a few strands in his hand but before he can go through with it he hears that taunting voice again.

 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you”

 

As if the man actually knows any boundaries. But Kida obeys anyhow. He moves a bit closer to him, uncertain as to how to proceed. Those thin lips are twisted in an anything but gentle smirk, but in some sick twisted way the curve of that mouth makes him think about Saki. _Saki giggling at his lame jokes. Saki smiling at him with half closed eyes. Saki kissing him. Saki lying unconscious in a hospital bed._ He leans in for a kiss, taking his time, studying the informant’s expression, hoping for a nod of approval, or perhaps for control to be snatched away from him. But the raven seems to be enjoying the game too much to change it; he remains expressionless and unresponsive even as Kida brushes their lips together tracing trembling fingertips across the man’s face, exploring his high cheekbones and his pointed chin, the strong line of his jaw and the soft skin at the base of his ear. He’s not sure he enjoys the contact himself, but it’s still frustrating to not draw any kind of response, so he pulls back and frowns. The informant is smirking at him, unperturbed by that borderline pout.

 

“Kida-kun’s being awfully quiet tonight”

 

He refuses to give in to the taunts and brings his knee between the man’s legs instead, leaning against the chair as he presses it against the informant’s groin. His breath is coming hard and shallow now, as the distance between them closes in. He can’t imagine what it must be like to have sex with a man, let alone with this particular man, but he doesn’t care really, just as long as he gets to feel again. He doesn’t even care what it is that he feels - disgust, fear, pain – whatever it is, he’ll welcome it, just as long as it gets his mind off that hospital bed, off the caskets, the bandages, the tubes and the endless beeping sounds of machines keeping her alive. Just as long as he doesn’t feel guilty anymore. The informant chuckles humorlessly, as if he can read his mind.

 

“Careful what you wish for, Kida-kun”

 

But Kida doesn’t care to be careful anymore. He’s lost himself already, what else is there to lose? So he leans in for another kiss, hoping for some proper warmth this time, some real contact, maybe even the wet relief of the other’s tongue in his mouth, but before his lips have touched the informant’s he’s flipped around and pushed over the desk. The empty surface of this desk has always given him a sickening feeling; like the neat, sterile surface of a surgery. From the moment he stepped in that office for the first time he couldn’t help but wonder how the man could keep it so empty when he’d spend half his day working right there. As he feels the edge of the wooden surface press into his thighs, his upper body bent over it under Izaya’s strong hold, he catches himself thinking that it couldn’t have been any other way; the empty, impersonal space, tasteful yet cold, is all anyone could ever expect from a man like this. There isn’t much talking involved – Kida even holds his breath throughout most of it. As for pleasure, he doesn’t feel any of it himself and he could swear that neither does the informant. The first finger is pushed inside him curiously, the same way a child would probe a hole in a tree trunk, checking to see what he could get from it. The second is added more out of vicious excitement but Kida doesn’t complain even though it hurts like hell. He bites his lips and squeezes his eyes shut and tries to think of warm, soft, tender Saki. But the moment he pictures her face in his mind the guilt kicks back in and he remembers why he’s doing this; he needs to feel the pain, to embrace it, to drown in it in order to forget about the guilt. So he opens his eyes again and stares hard at the empty room; the expensive furniture, the walls covered with bookcases heavy with books and files, the open stairs leading to the upper floor where he’s never once been allowed. Izaya doesn’t bother talk either, he just scissors him mercilessly before pulling out to replace his fingers with his erect member. He doesn’t bother go slow; he thrusts forcefully inside him and when Kida fails to swallow a groan he thrusts again deeper, burring himself to the hilt. The sensation of being stretched and filled by the other’s hot flesh makes Kida feel sick, the room spinning around him. He shuts his eyes and tries his best to draw steady, even breaths, but the informant pulls out just as roughly as he thrust himself in and gives the boy’s body enough time to fight the stretching of the muscle, to relax again. And then he thrusts back in and laughs at Kida’s grunt and shudder. He picks up the pace fast and pounds hard inside the boy’s ass, spreading the smooth buttocks apart with his hands to go as deep as possible. Kida could swear he feels his skin ripping – no, not just his skin but his whole body is ripped in two and it burns and the sensation makes his stomach turn and there’s nothing pleasurable about it, nothing warm and comforting and reassuring, it’s just pain – raw and relentless, and he’s glad for it. He’s glad because he deserves it.

 

He’s also glad when Izaya pulls out. He takes a deep breath and hears the man’s stifled moan just before he feels the thick fluid spurt over his lower back, slowly trickling down his ass and dripping on his trousers around his ankles. The informant doesn’t waste another moment with him; he resumes his position on his swivel chair, in front of his computer screen, tapping on his keyboard as if nothing has happened. Kida doesn’t bother clean himself up; he gathers he deserves to feel dirty and just pulls his trousers up, standing there behind the man’s back like a stray, silently begging for nothing more than some attention. He gives up after a while and goes home. Punishment and attention in the same day is perhaps more than he deserves and should ever hope for.

 

*

 

The second time is a thousand times worse. Kida stays away from Shinjuku for a couple of days; it’s a rainy week and he spends his evenings at home, doused in self-loathing. He’s soar, his ass swollen and even bleeding some – it’s not enough for him to worry but the blood gives him a proper scare the first time he notices it. And yet he can’t stop thinking about the informant. When he finally works up the courage to show up at the man’s door he’s greeted by a predatory smile.

 

“Kida-kun! I didn’t expect to see you again so soon!”

 

There’s something sickening about that curve of the raven’s lips, but Kida ignores it and walks in the apartment all the same. Before he can say a word he’s dragged in the office and pushed down on the couch, his wrists pinned over his head by Izaya’s strong grip, their bodies pressing together.

 

“I didn’t realize you enjoyed our last session so much!”

 

Kida grunts in response to the crude comment and makes a half-hearted attempt to free his hands; he doesn’t really want to succeed. He feels a warm breath over his ear and shudders as Izaya starts licking the side of his face. He’s seized by a feeling that borders between lust and disgust and hears himself moaning against his will. The informant giggles satisfied and proceeds to remove all of Kida’s clothes, watching the boy’s face convulse in a mixture of repulsion and want. His long slender fingers trace across his prey’s body, feeling the soft, warm skin, pressing against the slightly protruding hipbones, running up the length of the boy’s hardening shaft. Kida feels those fingers wrap around his growing erection and the sensation of a cold ring against his burning flesh makes him shiver; _it feels so good._ He’s tempted to believe that this time will be better, that perhaps he’ll be allowed to enjoy the contact, maybe it’ll even make up for the cold emptiness in his heart. The informant’s lips and tongue trace across his chest, hovering over his nipples and occasionally dipping down to his abdomen, teasing the skin just above his crotch. The grip around his shaft tightens marginally and Kida arches his back, grinding his hips against that bony hand. But that’s as far as his own pleasure goes that evening. In a split second he’s flipped around and pushed over the armrest, his upper body hovering above the floor, his erection pressing against the fabric of the couch, that heavenly friction his only and insufficient source of pleasure from that moment on. Izaya spits a good amount of saliva in his palm and spreads it against the boy’s still swollen hole, then pushes his length inside without bothering to stretch the muscle with his fingers. Kida is still loose from their contact a few nights earlier, but his abused entrance is not ready for another round yet. The way his body is bent over the armrest he takes Izaya inside him deeper than the first time, deeper than he ever thought possible. The pain makes him cry out and before he can stop himself he’s begging the man to pull out. But Izaya chuckles, the same humorless chuckle from the first night, and only pulls out a bit before slamming deeper inside, his balls slapping Kida with vicious delight. He’s never felt so humiliated before. The first time he managed to remain almost perfectly silent and somehow that made him feel like he was more or less in control of his body. But this time, with blood flowing down to his head, his face inches above the floor, his ass screaming in pain, he simply can’t hold it; he grunts and groans and even cries out every now and then, squirming and flailing about, wondering whether anyone can hear his anguished cries beyond the walls of the spacious apartment. His cock goes limp almost instantly, pain not allowing him to enjoy any of it. He brings a trembling hand back and grabs a fistful of the informant’s black V-neck, pulling desperately at it as he begs to be released. But Izaya is merciless; he grabs a few strands of blond and yanks them hard, dragging Kida’s upper body up, forcing him to arch his back painfully as his ass is rammed without any concern for his own pain and discomfort. Kida bites his lips, still tugging on the black shirt, his other hand reaching back over his head to hold on to the bony fingers yanking at his hair, and he thinks about Saki, _strong, funny, pretty Saki, immobilized in a hospital bed, all because of him. Saki suffering in the hands of cruel strangers; all because of him. Saki hoping that he will come to her rescue; and him failing her, again and again._ Izaya’s voice takes up just where Kida’s own mind has left it; he starts whispering in his ear, as if he can read the boy’s thoughts.

 

“I heard she didn’t fight back. She kept still and took it like a good girl”

 

Kida keeps thrashing, as if he’s trying to free himself, even though they both know he doesn’t really wish to escape the torture, and mutters a broken “ _please”_ ,but the informant chuckles viciously, teasing the boy’s ear with his lips as he leans in even closer to speak the next words, not slowing his pace down at all.

 

“They say she screamed and cried as they shattered her bones. But unlike you, she didn’t beg. You are a _coward_ Kida-kun!”

 

He doesn’t doubt it; he is a coward. Izaya pulls out and flips him over, pinning his arms down on the couch with his knees as he pumps himself to a vengeful orgasm, spurting his cum all over the boy’s face and hair, and then climbs off of him disinterested. Kida hasn’t even realized he’s crying; it only hits him when he brings his hands up to wipe the sticky fluid off himself and feels his cheeks wet with tears. He stumbles up and cleans his face with his shirt before putting his clothes back on. The informant has moved to the window, with his back to the boy, and is staring outside indifferently. Kida hesitates for a few moments. He feels powerless and small in this apartment, in this man’s company, but he feels even worse in his own room. He stares at the back of the black V-neck he was holding on to just moments ago and sighs tiredly.

 

“I wish she’d never met me”

 

Those predatory red irises turn to smirk at him.

 

“Let’s hope she feels the same way when she wakes up!”

 

And he laughs, a vicious laughter that chases Kida out of the apartment and down the building’s staircase, out in the rain and all the way back to Ikebukuro – it hunts him down through the streets and into the cruel emptiness of his own room.

 

*

 

He disappears for the next couple of weeks; stays away from Shinjuku and even skips school. As a matter of fact, he only leaves his room to go to the drugstore and get some ointment for the swelling and the bleeding down there. And sometimes he walks all the way out to the hospital and hovers around the gate for a while before he heads back home. He doesn’t dare put his foot inside that building; all the news he gets about Saki come from common acquaintances. She hasn’t woken up yet, but the doctors are optimistic. They tell her friends and family to hope for the best. Kida has no hope left inside of him. He doesn’t know whether he wants her to wake up; he hears Izaya’s words in his mind, sees those red eyes laughing at him. What if she wakes up hating him? Blaming him for what happened to her? How could he ever look at her again, how could he ever hope to make her understand? There are worse scenarios, of course. What if she wakes up _not_ hating him? What if she wakes up still in love with him, gazing up at him behind those long eyelashes? How could he explain to her then?

 

By the end of the second week, he’s just counting days – no, hours, _minutes_ even. He’s terrified at both the thought that she might never wake up and the thought that she will. He doesn’t know how to deal with this anymore, Izaya’s voice ringing in his ears: his past has indeed become his god, and it’s a vengeful god. He wants to feel the pain again, to surrender to his punishment, to forget about the past and its horrifying implications. He takes the train to Shinjuku, idly watching people as they go about their lives. _How can anyone find this entertaining?_ Izaya could easily be his god; the manipulating, vengeful force that ties him down to his destiny. He wants the vengeful god to punish him; he needs it. When he gets to the apartment Izaya is quiet. Kida realizes with dismay that he prefers the man in his chatty moods, even if all that comes out of his mouth is venom. He sits in the couch silently all evening and when he stands to leave he doesn’t even get a goodbye sneer. He keeps coming back, though. He plays this game for eight days in a row. Eight days during which his body aches for a touch, be it a gentle or a rough one – he might have even gone so far as to admit that he silently wishes for a rough one – which however never comes.

 

On the ninth day something’s changed. He can feel it in the air even as he walks inside the office, it’s written all over Izaya’s playful expression. He’s hardly taken his jacket off when his wrist is captured between warm delicate fingers. It’s funny; he never would have imagined the man feeling so warm and reassuring. When he speaks up, Kida is startled by that alluring tone.

 

“What took you so long?”

 

The reply never leaves his lips; it hardly even gets to form in his mind. There isn’t enough air in the room, it’s been sucked out by those inviting words. He’s late, compared to the previous days. He’s walked around Shinjuku for a while, just to clear his head; another evening of craving for his punishment and finding nothing but cold indifference felt like more than he could take tonight. There is a weight crushing him, like he’s carrying the whole world on his shoulders. Izaya seems to read him without any effort. He smiles and it’s a smile so soft it actually scares Kida.

 

“I’ve been expecting you”

 

What happens next is beyond any imagination – that’s what he thinks to himself as he almost resists the hand that pulls him close, pulling his jacket off his back and dropping it on the back of the couch, his lips connecting with the informant’s in a kiss that is anything but cold and indifferent. Izaya is considerably taller than him and Kida practically stands on his toes, his head craned back, raven bangs brushing ever so lightly against his forehead as his vengeful god deepens the kiss, pressing his tongue between Kida’s lips; a contact so heavenly tender than he can’t fight back the warmth that seizes him, that wonderful feeling in his stomach and the growing sensation in his groin. Before he realizes it, he’s pressing himself against the lean black clad body, imagining that he lets his hands roam across the man’s back; so thin, yet so strong. When that warmth is snatched away from him, the soft lips pulled back, he finds himself whimpering for more. Izaya chuckles lightly and turns his back walking towards the stairs, Kida’s wrist still caught between his long fingers. Kida allows his body to be led up the stairs and into a spacious bedroom; it could easily be a separate apartment. He’s laid down on the bed; king size, no surprise there, and covered in silky sheets. He watches Izaya climb on the mattress, agile like a cat, and straddle his legs. Despite the tender treatment, he expects it all to hurt again, maybe even worse than the previous two times. He expects this game to stop any moment now, he expects to find himself face down, screaming into those sheets, without any warning. Instead, he feels a warm wet tongue teasing the skin just over his jeans’ waistband. He looks down to find Izaya watching him, pushing the boy’s shirt up with one hand and lustfully caressing his thigh with the other. Kida doesn’t care to watch, not when it’s the informant making him feel like that, so he shuts his eyes and immerses himself in raw sensation; warm fingertips tracing the skin across his abdomen as his shirt is slowly, lazily almost, pulled off, a skillful mouth teasing his nipples and collarbone, a delicate nose nuzzling idly on his neck, expert fingers slowly removing his trousers, freeing his erection. He only opens his eyes again when all contact stops. He sees Izaya sitting up on his knees, pulling his V-neck over his head, ruffling his short raven hair in the process. He unbuckles his belt next, slowly taking his trousers off. Kida could swear there’s not enough air in the room; the sight takes his breath away and that’s just simply wrong. When the informant goes down on the bed on all fours, stalking forward just like a cat, his skin stretching delicately over strong muscles and protruding bones, Kida is seized by panic; so now is the time for his punishment. This predatory look, it could only mean pain. When Izaya leans over him, he throws a hand up, above his head, as if to rebut a blow. But instead of pain he receives tenderness again. Izaya grabs his arm in a steady grip and pins it down to the bed, leaning in and kissing him more passionately than anyone else has ever had. He’s left breathless and lightheaded, panting, his cock pulsing freely. Izaya shifts on top of him until their erections are pressing together, creating just enough friction to make Kida’s weep shinny precum. He’s almost embarrassed, but, despite craving for punishment all these days, he can’t deny that he enjoys this so much more than pain and humiliation. Izaya sits up on his knees again and pulls Kida up as well, motioning for him to crouch between his legs. He understands what that means and he’s a bit intimidated, but there’s no disgust or unwillingness in his stalling. Some part of him wants to taste the man, maybe even to prove that he can actually satisfy him, but mostly he’s just worried that he doesn’t know how to do it right. The reassuring smile the informant wears persuades him to drop down on the bed and give it a try. He’s surprised at how big it is; it certainly felt big inside him, but at least his ass could take it all in, albeit with a great deal of pain. His mouth, on the other hand, seems to be too small. He opens wide and tries his best to take it all inside but ends up choking, drooling like a dog – anything but sexy. Izaya laughs (almost) goodheartedly and brings a hand down to caress Kida’s face, slowly moving down to his neck.

 

“Relax your muscles. Don’t worry, you won’t choke”

 

He takes the advice and tries again, with much better results this time. The informant doesn’t taste bad - quite the contrary – but his taste is so much different than Saki’s; so full and heavy, so masculine. He moves his mouth slowly, trying to savor every bit of the experience, working his tongue along the shaft, tracing the veins popping out, just because he thinks he’d really enjoy that himself. The first moan that climbs up the informant’s throat startles him; he never would have guessed that he was doing this right. He looks up and sees red eyes heavy lidded with pleasure and lust. The sight makes his cock throb for some reason, and Izaya seems to read his need in his eyes. He chuckles and runs his fingers through the boy’s blonde hair, moving his hips to set the rhythm he likes. Kida obeys, swallowing the hard flesh as deep as he can and then sucking it as he moves his head back. He feels the informant shudder, going stiff inside him. He’s suddenly pushed back, until his back is pressing down on the sheets, and then Izaya is reaching for something in one of the drawers of the side table behind him. Kida can’t make out what it is - all he can see is the informant’s back turned to him – but he can hear the _plop_ of a bottle being opened and when Izaya turns around again his fingers are covered with something shinny – lube, he presumes. He holds his breath as the slick fingers come down between his legs and almost jumps when they touch him; the lube feels so cold against his skin. Izaya leans in and kisses the tip of his nose breathing “ _Relax, it will warm up soon”_ as his fingers probe around his entrance, slowly working their way in. _This is when the pain starts,_ he thinks, bracing himself for what he imagines will follow, but once again the sensation is actually good, he even sighs without realizing it. A finger goes in , all the way to the knuckle, and his body responds by arching a bit, unconsciously pushing against it, taking it deeper. He sighs again as Izaya starts pumping it in and out, with slow, careful movements. His hips start swaying to the rhythm set for him and his eyes fall shut, rolling with pleasure behind their closed lids. He feels another finger go in, but there’s no pain. A guttural moan echoes in the room and as he realizes that it came from his throat, Kida opens his eyes again to look up at the informant, embarrassed at how lewd his voice just sounded. He meets a lustful smile and a pair of eyes that look anything but menacing, anything but mocking; Izaya is there with him, open and honest, or so it seems. Both fingers are pumping him now, with steady circular movements, slowly scissoring and stretching the muscle, and for some reason he doesn’t care to understand Kida feels his whole body scream for more, burning up, stretching and twisting, and opening up.

 

“Mooore”, he mumbles between moans and whimpers and Izaya chuckles.

 

“What more?” Kida can hear the playful tone and he knows this is a tease. He grinds his hips forward, biting his lower lip and gazing up at the informant, but he can’t seem to avoid voicing his request again.

 

“Mooore…please…”

 

“Just tell me what you want and you’ll have it, Masaomi”

 

His name is whispered in his ear, like a tease, and his eyes fly open at the sound of it. He watches the man leaning over him; the silky hair falling over that pale face, the flawless skin stretching over strong yet lean muscles, the red eyes shining in the dark like a cat’s. He can hardly believe the words he breathes like a plea, but he hears them in his ears and sees the smile that stretches over the pale face as it leans in for another kiss, and he knows he has indeed spoken them. _“Fuck me”._

 

His knees are brought up and then pushed back against his chest as Izaya positions himself between Kida’s spread legs. There’s no pain this time; when the informant’s length pushes through that first ring of muscle Kida tosses his head back in pleasure, making inarticulate sounds of lust. He hears giggles over his head and his mobile ringing inside his jacket’s pocket in the office downstairs, but he doesn’t care; Izaya is making him feel so good… better than he’s felt in a long long time. This position allows the informant to go deep and when he’s buried himself to the hilt he stands still for a moment. And then he starts moving; thrusting in and out, slowly at first, but picking up the pace soon. When the sensation starts bordering dangerously towards pain, a skillful hand wraps around his erection and starts pumping it lazily, adding to the pleasure and taking his mind off anything unpleasant. He can still feel the man slide inside him, but the pain is shoved to the back of his mind as the lust and the pleasure build up, making him moan and shudder. It doesn’t take him long to come, spurting his seed all over his chest, fists clenched in the sheets. Izaya laughs, pleased, and rolls him over so that he’s lying on his stomach. He thrusts back in and immediately starts moving inside Kida, nibbling on the tip of his ear and gripping the base of his hair. Kida is surprised that the contact keeps on, but enjoys it none the less. With his demanding release having already been taken care of, he immerses himself in the raw sensation of being penetrated. It startles him that he can actually enjoy it; his previous two experiences had left him thinking that it could never be anything but painful. But Izaya is tender this time; firm but gentle, giving him great amounts of pleasure with nothing but a touch of bearable pain. He comes again before it’s all over, the informant pounding his prostate knowingly and not even touching his by then hard again cock – it is the most intense orgasm he’s ever had and he almost blacks out, falling asleep instantly and letting Izaya cover his sweaty body with a blanket. He wakes up with a deep kiss, sunlight coming in through the blinds, and he feels his cock throbbing under the covers. Long fingers start stroking it lazily and he opens his eyes to find the familiar red irises gazing deep inside them, as if the informant had been watching him all night. His body responds to the touches, but the look in those fiery eyes has turned back to predatory and it makes Kida feel uncomfortable, vulnerable even.

 

“You’re a naughty boy, Masaomi. You had your fun last night and then left me high and dry. You have to make it up to me”, the informant purrs with a broad smile that leaves his fangs bare and Kida shivers as the covers are pulled off of him. “On your hands and knees, _now_!”

 

He obeys without a word, even though he has a terrible feeling about all this, and jerks at the familiar cold sensation of lube being applied to his entrance. Izaya plunges himself in with little interest in being gentle and Kida groans through clenched teeth.

 

“Did you enjoy yourself last night, Masaomi?”

 

Kida ignores the taunt and focuses on not allowing himself to make any more pained noises. He holds his breath, teeth clenched, hands rolled in fists, and tries to push back the voice in his head that can’t stop pleading _why are you doing this to me? You were so tender last night. It was so good, I felt so good, I never thought I could feel like this again. Why are you so cruel to me now?_ He feels the grip on his hips tighten enough to leave a mark as the hard flesh inside him pounds harder, bruising his insides, making him feel sick again, just like the first time. He can’t hold it in for too long, he’s whimpering soon enough, and as Izaya refuses to slow down he starts begging again, silently cursing himself for his weakness.

 

“Pl-please… plea-please…stop…”

 

“Sshhh… I want you to feel this, Kida-kun, I want you to remember how it felt having me deep inside you, I want you to feel this bruising pain between your legs when you see her again, when she looks up at you and asks you where you’ve been, where you were when she woke up”

 

Kida freezes at the sound of those words. His mind screams that it’s a lie, the informant is playing with him, nothing new there, _don’t believe him, don’t believe it, don’t believe a word that comes out from that mouth_ … and then he starts thrashing, but this time it’s honest, he really wants to escape, he begs to be released with tears in his eyes, but Izaya only hurts him further, pushing him down against the bed, grabbing the headboard and pounding hard inside him, pinning him down by a strong grip in his hair.

 

“Didn’t you know? She woke up yesterday evening! Aren’t you happy, Masaomi?!”

 

Kida almost feels like he could put up with the pain if it wasn’t for the nasty laughter that reaches his ears. He keeps fighting but it’s pointless, the informant is holding him down and fucking him with bruising force and he feels smaller and smaller with every thrust, reduced into a crying child, powerless and helpless.

 

“What’s the matter? You were begging me to fuck you last night, no?! So what will you tell her first, Kida-kun, that you were too much of a coward to help her, or that you were lying in my bed, begging me to fuck you the night she finally woke up? I have to warn you; she might be jealous. I never gave her the pleasure of becoming my sex toy”

 

Izaya swallows his voice as he reaches his climax and Kida is glad for the temporary silence. He doesn’t pull out this time, but rather comes deep inside Kida and the boy feels the hard cock go stiff before it spasms, filling him up with hot cum; the sensation makes him cringe and he runs to the bathroom the moment he’s released, throwing up over the toilet. As he pushes himself up and reaches for the sink to rinse his mouth, he feels the cum trickle down the inside of his thighs and drops to the floor, mortified. The informant waltzes in the bathroom carrying Kida’s clothes and drops them to the floor in front of the boy with a triumphant smile.

 

“No need to feel bad, Kida-kun. She, of all people, should be understanding towards your fascination with a creature as perfect as I!” he sneers walking over to the sink and splashing his face before walking out of the bathroom.

 

Kida hears him climbing down the stairs gleefully, humming some tune. He forces himself up and puts his clothes on with trembling hands. When he gets down to the office Izaya is standing in front of the windows with his back to the stairs, hands in his pockets, still humming that unrecognizable tune with honest joy. He turns around as Kida grabs his jacket from the couch.

 

“Tell her I said hi… among other things!”

 

Kida is out the door before the informant has burst into laughter, but the devious grin follows him all the way to his room, all the way to his shower where he scraps himself clean, grazing his skin to get rid of the disgust that tugs on his heart and on his stomach. He checks his phone to find all the unanswered calls from friends who must have been trying to call him from the hospital. _I’m a coward, Saki. No, I’m more than a coward; I’m an idiot, and a traitor, and I deserve all the pain he’s given me._ He’s outside the hospital’s gate in no time but instead of walking inside to see Saki, he just paces up and down the sidewalk for over an hour. He’ll kill the informant next time he sees him; he’ll kill him for sure.


End file.
